


Bound

by snarechan



Category: Transformers, Transformers (Comics)
Genre: Dreamwave, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end means something can begin anew, whether you expect it to or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nri_ennui](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nri_ennui).



> A Christmas gift for Nri! I was silly and jumped the gun, and started writing something for her right away (Psychonauts, though at the time of writing it I hadn't seen the ending of the game). Then I realized I had yet to _ask_ her what she would like, thus she ended up with Transformers, too. Thanks to Cassandra Cassidy for beta reading this - whatever errors remain are my own.

Vector Prime was hearing voices.

Technically, it was _a_ voice, growing in intensity and destroying whatever excuses he could fathom as to whether or not he was hallucinating. This came as a grave disappointment of sorts because he had a theory as to who the other voice belonged to, and the reality of it was worse than if he were simply going stark, raving insane.

The issue first arose not too long ago, after a near-cataclysmic event that had almost cost the universe its very existence, along with Primus himself. A very terrifying incident indeed, but the skirmish of legendary proportions had ended.

Not for Vector Prime, apparently, as he was discovering. He recalled blissful silence in the beginning, the calm individuals spoke of coming after a storm, and he continued with his busy work schedule. Then, the whispering began. A hint of words at the far reaches of his audios – an annoying buzz that was faint enough to not be understandable, but that he could still pick up on. It grew in volume over the course of a few days, going and coming at its leisure – sometimes sporadic and staying for cycles.

His searching for the cause of it was a waste. In no way was he damaged or deranged, meaning it was an outside force that was the problem. This lead him to assumptions with minor proof as to whether or not he was on the correct track.

Only one way to find out for sure, he reasoned.

“I know it is you, Fallen.”

Nothing.

“While I do not know how you accomplished this, nor what your agenda is, I am commanding you to cease and desist.”

 _You command?_ a voice rose up, feeling as if a part of Vector Prime’s own thoughts, save darker and murkier, was rising like an unknown entity from a swamp.

“Good, that got your attention,” he said, his goal to prove an invader's existence a success. Not that he was exactly _pleased_ to be right in his assumptions, but to fix this, he had to know what he was dealing with.

 _You’ve always had my attention,_ the voice – Fallen, his brother – chortled. _You’ll always have my attention._

His head was starting to hurt, an ache welling up from the center of his forehead and creeping backwards, like an error infesting his CPU. Vector Prime wasn’t a stranger to pain, however, and he continued on as if this situation were commonplace.

“You do not belong here.”

As aggravating as he was in life, Fallen said, _I disagree. And besides, I like it here. It’s comfortable and roomy._

“No, you do not. Now be gone, and take your treacherous ways with you.”

Silence, heavy-laden and toxic, reigned. If it weren’t for how charged the quiet was, he might have thought that Fallen had actually heeded his request. But he’d be a fool to think that his brother would be so accommodating.

“Well?”

Still no response, confirming that this task would not be easy. Vector Prime had figured as much, yet a part of him had still dreamed that maybe matters would have gone smoothly. For once.

“If you insist, I will not rest until I find a method that involves force,” he warned, wondering, then, where exactly he figured Fallen’s…remains, as it were, could go, exactly-

Oh, bother.

 _Yes,_ his brother confirmed, oozing wicked amusement. _Your lord and savior didn’t exactly think his plan through when he destroyed my frame, now did he?_

When a Cybertronian passed on, their essence gathered amongst those who were yet to be born or had passed before them, returning to the Well of All Sparks. As for the demi-gods, they were not exactly intended to die, and for someone as rebellious against Primus’s intentions as Fallen had been, _his_ was not exactly welcome to join with the others - especially after his last visit there.

 _Should have installed the smelting pools when you sorry lot had the chance,_ Fallen said, knowing as well as he – perhaps _better_ – that there was no place for wrongdoers, an opposite plot designated strictly to punish them.

“Oh, _bother,_ ” he repeated, aloud this time, and let his face fall into one open hand in despair.

 _We are going to have_ such _fun together,_ his brother informed him.

And Vector Prime’s head was filled with laugh after laugh after _laugh_ of devious promise.

-Fin-


End file.
